


Blood and Tears

by GentlyMorbid



Series: The Average Lives of Alana and Margot Verger-Bloom [9]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: F/F, Graphic Self Harm, Prepare tissues and a sedative because you will cry, major angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-14
Updated: 2015-11-14
Packaged: 2018-05-01 13:51:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5208227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GentlyMorbid/pseuds/GentlyMorbid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Margot isn't speaking to Alana after she almost caught her in the bedroom. Alana is desperate to keep Margot from drifting away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blood and Tears

A week later, Margot was barely speaking to her and choosing to sleep in the guest room, rather than with Alana. Alana herself was at wits’ end. She had tried and tried to get her fiancé to talk to her for more than a minute, but she obviously wanted to be left alone.

There must have been something going on that was deeper than the reason of how Margot got injured. Alana had thought of every possible scenario, but failed to come up with a logical assumption as to what was going on with her fiancé.

She pondered that she might have done something to exacerbate the situation, and the thought made her upset. For Alana, to be the reason that Margot was not speaking to her was more than she could bear to think about.

As she happened to pass Margot on the way to her bedroom, she turned and grabbed her arm softly, so she wouldn’t be frightened. The notion of Margot being frightened of her was preposterous, but Alana knew she wanted to keep dealing with whatever she was dealing with on her own.

Margot tensed a little, “Yes, dear? Did you need something from me?” The falsely sweet tone made Alana crumble a little inside. Had their relationship already regressed so far that Margot was resorting to pretending that nothing had changed?

Alana spoke up, “Margot, please tell me what’s been going on. Did I do something to make you like this?” Margot established eye contact with her for what seemed like the first time in days, “No, you didn’t do anything. I was just stressed from work.”

The flimsy explanation didn’t pass Alana’s notice. Her eyes narrowed, “Work? You don’t talk to me for a week and you expect me to believe that you’re stressed because of work? Do you think I’m stupid, Margot?! Tell me what’s going on with you! I don’t know what to do to help you!

Margot’s eyes widened slightly at Alana’s frustrated tone, “I don’t think you’re stupid. I just don’t want to talk about it because it doesn’t matter anymore!

Alana wasn’t giving up now as she almost yelled, “Well, you need to adopt a different mood, because you’ve been sulking for the past week! I can’t stand seeing you mope around the house, avoiding me because of something you won’t even talk about! I know that we fight sometimes, but this is ridiculous! If it’s nothing, then surely nothing is stopping you from telling me. Please, Margot.” Alana’s eyes watered and her voice cracked, “Please let me in. I miss you. So very much. It hurts me that you shut yourself away like this. It tells me that it’s not ‘nothing’. Something is bothering you very much and I don’t want you to deal with it on your own.”

Margot stuttered, “I-I can’t tell you. It’s really not something you want to be involved in. It would make me a burden on you. I don’t want to force you into that.” With that statement, Margot retreated back into their bedroom, closing the door behind her. As Alana made her way to the door, she could hear Margot taking deep breaths, as if she was trying not to cry, as well.

If Margot wanted to be left alone, then Alana would give her time. Just not too much, or else Margot would slip away again. Alana couldn’t wait another week to talk to Margot. She wanted to hold her again. She loved her, and she assumed that Margot probably still loved her. Alana was probably exaggerating the situation. Could she be?

Meanwhile, Margot was sitting on their bed, crying. She hadn’t done enough crying this week. It made her feel a little better. She didn’t mean to shut Alana out, but she couldn’t let her in, either. The consequences would be too great.

She supposed that there was nothing left for her to do; she could only self-destruct as she waited for Alana to leave her or find out her secret. Margot didn’t know which was worse, but she did know that she could not allow any of those options. As she cried herself to sleep, like she had a week ago in the guest room, she felt the warm embrace of oblivion greeting her. She supposed that death felt the same way.

 

* * *

 

Alana had occupied the guest room that Margot had been using since the week before. This was the closest she had been to Margot, disregarding their recent conversation. She could smell Margot here; she could almost taste her. The bed was unmade, a sign of Margot’s emotional distress.

Alana smiled softly. They were so close that they could tell when the other was stressed, by little things such as an unmade bed, which Alana was infinitely grateful for, now even more so. She lay down on the bed recently occupied by her love, and took in the shape of Margot’s imprint in the bed.

She would get to the bottom of this, even if it killed her. She hated seeing Margot like this, and she hated that Margot felt like she couldn’t trust her enough to divulge her problems. Alana closed her eyes, wishing her soon-to-be-wife better dreams than her, and fell asleep to dreams of Applesauce and Margot playing happily.

Alana woke with a start. She checked her watch: She had slept for two hours. Alana could not place what had awoken her so abruptly until she inhaled deeply. A peculiar scent had pervaded the air. It was bothering her, enough for it to have woken her up. As she curled further into the bed, intending to ignore the smell and go back to sleep, it grew stronger.

The scent was tinged with metal. Alana blinked in confusion. The only source of metal in the room was the bin in the corner. The bin was further away than her nose could pick up, which left no conclusions as to why she could smell iron in the air or why it was bothering her so much.

Alana could only think of one other reason for that smell. She got off the bed and rotated around the room, trying to spot the cause. She looked down in surprise.

Three drops of blood were spotted on the fitted sheet.

Alana frowned in confusion. She couldn’t have left those there. She checked her nose, but found no blood. Her last menstrual cycle ended four days ago and she wasn’t bleeding anywhere else, as far as she could tell. She felt the blood on the sheet. It was dry. The only other person in this room had been… Margot.

Was Margot hurt so bad that she was bleeding? Alana’s eyes widened. Margot _had_ been hurt and was trying to keep it from her. Alana could not figure out why, beside the reason of Margot not wanting to bother her. ‘

She looked in the bin to check for any evidence and found more than she wanted to. The bin was half filled with saturated, bloody tissues! Is this why Margot had been limping so badly during the beginning of the week?

Alana made up her mind to confront Margot, and shut the door behind her as she went on her mission.

 

* * *

 

While Alana had been sleeping, Margot had been awake for half an hour and was busy trying to control herself. She’d already done enough damage to herself last night; she didn’t have the capacity to do much more. But once again, after a futile ten minute struggle, she sat up, and almost rushed to her drawer. How she had managed to keep transporting her resources back and forth without Alana noticing was beyond her. She just counted herself lucky that she hadn’t been discovered.

She picked a large, sharp fixed blade and proceeded to sterilise it, while opening a new box of tissues and first aid. She had finally finished going through the old box and this new one was ready to be christened the only way it could be.

She sat down and set out her knife roll on the floor in front of her, with the first aid supplies going next to it and then the tissues next to the first aid. Margot needed her control. To establish control, she needed to put everything in order; in its proper place, where it belonged.

With all preparations having been made, she started deliberating where she should scar herself next. Her thighs were almost half covered in new and old scars, which meant that she would run out of room at the rate she was going. She chose her left upper arm, which was relatively scarred, though not by her. This way, Alana would never suspect it to be from her own hand.

The skin on her upper arm was not as hard to penetrate as her thigh, so the knife dug in easily, letting the blood flow. She started breathing faster, relishing the pain and the relief soon to follow. Margot made sure to make her incisions far enough apart that they wouldn’t blend into each other and starting cutting deeper with each gash.

After five minutes, the knife was completely covered in her blood and her upper arm was slippery to touch. She threw the knife onto her newly cleaned towel and selected another weapon to sterilise and use. This one was a folding knife with a rainbow blade. Margot has chosen it for its aesthetic, mainly. As she lowered the knife to her arm, she moved downwards to her forearm.

She reasoned that Alana wouldn’t care because she was bound to find out or leave her, so either way, she could do as much damage as she wanted. If her upper arm was easy to cut into, her forearm was even easier.

She made wounds on both sides, uncaring at this point to the consequences. She was desperate, but she could finally think clearly, at the same time. The more blood got on her knife and the more she opened herself, the better she felt. At the point where there was so much blood that she couldn’t tell if she’d gone too far or not, the door burst open in front of her. She had forgotten to lock it!

The relief she had felt since she had started hurting herself twenty minutes ago vanished as she looked up at the newcomer slowly, dreading what was to come next. Dark green eyes looked up with a steady, yet resigned gaze as frightened cyan eyes, glistening with tears, stared back.

It was Alana.

**Author's Note:**

> Margot's knives: http://cdn2.bigcommerce.com/server1800/204ff/products/650/images/4570/1q-2__48261.1424730726.1280.1280.jpg?c=2 and http://thumbs.dreamstime.com/z/hunting-knife-2415207.jpg


End file.
